


Emissary

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Bonding, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw some posts about emissary bonds, and I just had to write one myself.

Stiles had said, more than once, that it was a bad idea. That they were risking the safety of the pack, taking too much of a chance.

But he’d done it anyway.

He’d gotten himself bonded to Derek of the Hale pack, and it wouldn’t be long before they figured out that he was a fraud. That Stiles had barely had enough magic to complete the mountain ash circle required by the ritual.

And now, here he was, packing up his things so he could _move in with Derek_. And god, as soon as Derek asked him to do something, something any _real_ emissary should be able to do, it would be obvious that he couldn’t. And it would be his fault when tensions inevitably rose between the Hale and McCall packs.

It might even get his friends pushed out of the Beacon Hills territory. Forever.

All because he couldn’t keep up his end of the bargain, and when he thought about it too much, it almost felt like he was having a panic atta—

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, and Stiles startles hard.

“Derek, what the hell—” he begins, but he doesn’t get far.

“I came to see how you were doing,” Derek cuts in. “And ask if you needed anything.”

And that’s rich, coming from Derek, who’s been giving Stiles these serious, clench-jawed looks since the moment their bond was finalized. He doesn’t seem like he wants to be around Stiles at all.

“No,” Stiles says, giving him a tense-jawed look of his own. “I’m fine.”

Derek sighs, and for a brief instant, he looks totally and completely at a loss. “You know how to get there?” he asks.

Derek’s place isn’t that far away, and though he’s not in that area of town too often, Stiles still knows where it is. “I do. You give good directions,” he concedes.

Despite his stoic demeanor, Derek has been nothing but helpful throughout this entire process.

He gives Stiles a sharp nod, and then he’s gone. Stiles collapses down on his bed, letting out a sigh. The worst part of all of this—knowing that he’s not a real emissary, knowing that he’s going to let someone down—is that, deep down, he wanted this.

Derek is more than beautiful, and though they hadn’t been able to talk much during the pack negotiations, he’d gotten to know Derek enough. Wanting to be around him had been the last deciding factor Stiles had needed to go ahead with the bond. He’s not proud of that.

And now he’s going to find out what it’s like to live with Derek.

He throws some clothes in a bag, grabs the box of essentials he packed. If he needs anything else, he can come back for it later.

He might not be staying that long with Derek, anyway.

 

*

 

When he gets to the building, he has to double-check the address, because this place looks kind of…abandoned.

He slowly climbs the stairs, stepping over pieces of wood and drywall, feeling his anxiety climb with him.

“Sorry for the mess,” Derek says when he answers the door. “I’m working on renovating the place.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles says absently, looking around. Derek had obviously finished his own apartment first, because the loft is beautifully done. It’s open and spacious without feeling vacant, and the bank of windows in the center is spectacular. There’s also has a lot of small detailed work apparent throughout, showing Derek’s care and effort.

“Your bedroom is this way,” Derek says, and Stiles blinks at him in surprise.

He’d sort of expected them to be sharing.

Derek walks across the loft and pulls open a door, showing Stiles inside. He steps into an immaculate bedroom, freshly-painted, with a huge, comfortable-looking bed in the middle. It feels warm and welcome, and makes Stiles feel strangely comforted.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, when he sees Derek is lingering in the doorway. “This is amazing.”

“I’ll let you get settled,” Derek says. He gives Stiles one last look, then he’s gone, pulling the door shut behind him.

Stiles isn’t sure he really _wants_ to unpack, but he might as well play along with this charade.

Once he empties everything, the exhaustion he’s been fighting all day finally catches up with him. He flops back on the huge bed, deciding that a nap is in order.

He’s obviously more tired than he thought, because when he wakes up, it’s pretty late. He stares out into the night for a moment before he pulls the curtains closed, feeling strangely disoriented. He shuffles to the kitchen, trying to be quiet in deference to werewolf ears.

The whole place is dark, but Derek has left a small light above the stove on for him. It’s just bright enough for him to read the note stuck to the fridge: _You missed dinner_. _Feel free to help yourself to anything._

Stiles feels a wince of guilt at that. It was probably important for an emissary to have a meal with the werewolf he’s newly bonded to.

But he can’t quite imagine sitting across the dinner table from Derek, lying to him about how much magic he can do. He already likes Derek too much to try to fool him.

He shakes it off, grabbing a fork and some random containers out of the fridge. He carries them off to his bedroom to eat, and tells himself that it’s because he’s trying to be quiet.

But he knows it’s really because he doesn’t feel like he belongs in Derek’s space. Like he’s an intruder.

 

*

 

Derek finds him the next morning, washing up his dishes as he chews on freshly-cooked bacon.

“Hey,” Derek says with a little nod, pulling the eggs out of the fridge.

Stiles hastily swallows the rest in his mouth, says, “Hey. Hope you don’t mind, I made some bacon and toast.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Derek says. “Do you want some eggs?” he asks, already beginning to crack some into a bowl.

“Um, sure,” Stiles says, glancing over and suddenly noticing how _tired_ Derek looks. “If you don’t mind.”

He finishes up the dishes, moves out of Derek’s way to dry them.

Derek stirs the eggs, gives him an odd, hesitant look, then says, “Would you put up some protective wards around here?”

Stiles’ heart sinks when he hears Derek asking for something, but buoys almost immediately when he realizes that’s something he _can_ do. He’s gone over those spells hundreds of times.

“Sure, I’ll do it in a minute,” he says agreeably, then promptly regrets it.

He’s never been great at feeling his magic, but it’s seemed even more weak and distant as of late. He’s not sure he’ll actually have enough to be able to put up the wards.

He distractedly eats the eggs Derek made him, while he tries to find the spark within himself, and encourage it to grow.

“Okay,” he says when his plate is empty. It’ll give him more anxiety to put it off; he might as well get it over with. “I’ll start now.”

Derek looks like he wants to protest, but he just silently picks up Stiles’ plate and carries it to the sink.

Stiles heads to his bedroom, grabs his small wooden box full of dried herbs and chalk. He gives it a gentle shake, and the earthy fragrance of it intensifies.

He carries it out tucked safely against his chest, and pulls the front door closed behind him. He turns and stands in the hallway, eyeing the entryway speculatively.

When he’s made a decision, he pulls a piece of chalk out of the box, lightly tapping it against the lid to knock the herbs off. He then begins to write, inscribing a neat set of runes across the doorframe, trying to push his magic out into each stroke.

When he’s done, he steps back and watches as the chalk marks sink into the wood, invisible now, and smiles in satisfaction.

Some people would be content with just that, but not Stiles.  

He goes back inside the loft, trails a long line of runes under the huge bank of windows, making sure they’re completely warded. Now he just needs to do the other windows in the loft.

When he looks up, Derek’s watching him curiously. “Are you doing the bedrooms, too?” he asks.

“Um, yeah. If that’s okay,” Stiles says. It’s the only way to make this place as secure as possible.

“This way,” Derek says neutrally, leading him across the loft and up the stairs.

Stiles pauses at the doorway to scratch out a few quick runes, limiting malicious entry, before he goes inside. He heads straight for the window, unsure if he’s feeling lightheaded because he’s in Derek’s bedroom—which smells strangely good, almost distractingly so—or if he’s just been using too much magic.

After he finishes those runes, he figures that he’s probably just been pushing himself too hard.

Mostly because he’s feeling an almost desperate urge to climb into Derek’s bed, and pull Derek in there with him. Just to hold him close and nuzzle against his neck, but still.

He hurries out of the room before he can even attempt to do it.

He does a hasty set of runes on his own windowsill, then collapses down on the floor beneath it. Yeah, he’s definitely pushed himself too hard. And been too intent on proving himself to Derek.

Now he’s too tired to get up.

“Stiles, do you want some—are you okay?” Derek asks, hurrying over with a glass of water.

“Fine,” Stiles says sharply, because he didn’t want Derek to see this. Surely a _real_ emissary would be able to put up wards without breaking a sweat. He’s obviously a failure.

But he takes the glass of water anyway, eagerly takes a gulp.

“ _Fine_ ,” Derek repeats, his whole body tense, and walks out the door.

Stiles slumps back against the wall, feeling like an asshole. He sighs, takes another sip of water.

 

*

 

It’s like that for the next few days, with Stiles mostly keeping to himself in his new bedroom. The only time they really talk is when Derek tells him they’ll be having dinner at the Hale house, with his whole family.

It’s a big old place in the woods, and Stiles stares wonderingly up at it when he climbs out of Derek’s Camaro. It’s beautiful, and when he’s inside, he finds that it manages to feel comfortingly like a home, despite its size.

 He’s pretty nervous at first, but the dinner goes great. The whole pack seems friendly and welcoming, but he supposes that makes sense, because he’s their emissary now.

Derek’s sister Cora is particularly interested in talking to him, tells him that he needs to come back and hang out sometime. She mentions that she has a friend that likes comic books and superheroes, and they could have a movie marathon or something. Stiles nods agreeably, because it’d be nice to make some new friends.

He spends the evening talking and laughing, and finds himself lingering over dessert, not wanting to leave.

Most of the Hales hug him goodbye, and Stiles heads out to the car feeling like he’s walking on air.

That feeling of contentment stays with him through the whole car ride, but the moment he steps into the loft, reality comes crashing in.

They’re expecting him to be an emissary, not an imposter. He just has even more people to disappoint now.

He bids Derek good night and beats a hasty retreat, wanting to curl up under his blankets and not have to think about this for a while.

 

*

 

He tries to keep his distance, at least emotionally, from Derek. He knows that they have potential together, whether it’s friendship or romance, but he’s too afraid to pursue it.

He catches Derek’s shuttered looks sometimes, starts making excuses to be out of the loft, too.

He goes to see his dad, and tries to put a positive spin on what’s going on, but Stiles can tell that he’s worried.

Then he talks to Scott, trying to figure out a backup plan in case Stiles can’t pull this emissary thing off. Scott tells him that he shouldn’t worry, that the Hales aren’t as aggressive as they’d thought, but Stiles knows he’s just saying it to make him feel better.

He just becomes more determined to bluff for as long as he can.

 

*

 

It all comes to a head a few days later.

He’s been out most of the afternoon, and the sun is beginning to set by the time he rolls the door open.

Derek’s sitting at the kitchen table, clearly waiting for him.

Stiles is a little tempted to just turn around and walk right back out, but he takes a deep breath and heads for the table instead. He doesn’t sit down, though. He just leans back against the island, wondering if he’s going to get chewed out.

 “We’re supposed to meet with a pack in southern California tomorrow afternoon,” Derek says. Stiles expects his tone to be accusatory, or maybe sarcastic, but it stays neutral through the whole sentence.

Stiles feels the dread sink low in his gut, because he’s just not ready. He doesn’t have the knowledge he needs to mediate, and he doesn’t have the magic he needs to restrict violence and limit outside influence.

He’s going to let everyone down.

Especially Derek.

Stiles is going to fail him.

Derek’s jaw clenches hard as Stiles stares at him, feeling blindsided.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Derek asks harshly, eyes narrowed. “Am I not suitable?”

“I—what?” Stiles stammers. How could Derek think there was anything wrong with _him_?

“Ever since the ceremony, there’s been a lot of tension, and a lot of negative emotions from you. Especially when you’re around me,” Derek says sharply.

“Wait, you can _feel_ my emotions?” Stiles asks, taken aback. He’d felt nothing after they’d been bonded, so he’d assumed Derek hadn’t either.

“On a low level,” Derek says. “The bond is minor, and mostly one-sided. You’d only be able to feel my emotions if I was in severe danger.”

“I had no idea,” Stiles mumbles, and Derek scowls at him.

“I thought at first it was because you were in a new place, in a new situation, and you weren’t quick to adapt,” Derek says, voice almost a growl. “Then we had dinner with my family, and everything I felt from you was light and happy. It didn’t change until you were back here, alone with me. And you’ve been trying to avoid me ever since.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Stiles blurts, because he’s obviously been hurting Derek without meaning to.

“Do I?” Derek challenges. “Explain it, then.”

“I’ve been afraid this whole time,” Stiles says, slumping heavily against the island. “I’d had reservations about becoming your emissary, about creating the bond, but I did it anyway. And I shouldn’t have. I’m not good enough, Derek. I can’t be what you need.”

Derek’s eyebrows come down, and he looks at Stiles in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know _how_ to be an emissary,” Stiles says. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Did you think we didn’t know?” Derek asks, perplexed. “Did you think we didn’t realize that you had no official experience? That’s why we’re supposed to go see the pack on the coast. They’re already friendly with us, it’s just intended to be a learning experience for you.”

Stiles shakes his head. He’s not sure if he deserves Derek’s reassuring tone just yet. “And I’ve never been very good with my magic, but now I can barely feel it at all. I don’t think I have the power you need.”

He knows Derek can hear how unsteady he sounds by the way his lips pull down. “That’s perfectly normal,” he says firmly. “You used your magic to create the bond, and now it’s acting to stabilize it. Your spark will return to normal in a few more days.”

Stiles nods, feeling relieved.

“But your magic _is_ weak,” Derek goes on. “Simply due to lack of use. It will improve and strengthen, Stiles.”

Stiles pushes off from the island, and sits down at the table across from Derek, instead. “Well, that’s good,” he mumbles, tempted to rest his head against the wood. “Just thought I might be failing my friends and family and you this whole time.” He stares down at the table top until Derek speaks.

“Stiles, I don’t know what it was like on your end, but this wasn’t a decision I entered into lightly,” he says. “We had a lot of discussions about who would be the most compatible for you, who would help create the best bond.”

“Really?” Stiles says, surprised. It had all happened pretty fast, he didn’t think there’d been that much time for planning.

“Of course,” Derek says, like it’s obvious. “I redid the bedroom with you in mind, painted it in colors I thought you’d find soothing. I wanted you to feel as though you belonged here, because you do.”

And that all sounds good, but… “What if my magic never gets better than this?” he asks, because he needs to know everything.

“It will,” Derek says with certainty. “I picked up the end of the bond that allowed me to sense you. I know your power and ability, and I can see your potential, even if you don’t. But even if you never got stronger, you would still be able to do more magic than me,” he says, shrugging. “You would still be our emissary.”

“So if I failed, I wouldn’t be kicked out? My pack wouldn’t be driven away?”

Derek frowns at that. “In the excitement of getting a new emissary, some of our younger pack members implied that the McCall pack would be useless to us if they didn’t give you up,” he says sourly. “They have already been reprimanded. I’m sorry if you or your pack ever thought that was how the rest of us felt.”

Stiles just stares. He hadn’t wanted to believe that the Hales were that ruthless, especially not after the dinner he’d had with them. And now it turns out that they really _aren’t_ , with the exception of a few bloodthirsty youngsters. He just stares at Derek, feeling disoriented.

“I know all of this happened pretty fast,” Derek says apologetically. “But we wanted to finalize things so our packs could begin to work together. You became our emissary, and my sister Laura went to the McCall pack, to train Scott on how to be an alpha.”

Stiles is hearing it, but his mind is still caught on the fact that his friends and family are _safe_. That everything is going to be okay.

“So, you just wanted a trade?” his mouth says while he’s still mulling things over. He’d missed several of the diplomatic werewolf meetings, too busy learning a little basic emissary knowledge on the fly.

“You could say that,” Derek agrees, nodding. “Though my mom hopes to one day combine our packs. But the emissary bond lasts a year, so that’s how long you’ll be with us, and how long Laura will be mentoring your friends.”

“Just a year?” Stiles asks, surprised. None of his hasty reading had given him a clear answer about the length of the bond. “That’s it?”

“Unless we choose to renew it,” Derek says with a little smile.

Stiles tries to ignore the way his heart picks up at that. He swallows with an audible gulp, tries to think of something to distract himself. “So, you were just cool with that? Being bonded to some random guy and having him live with you for a _year_?” he has to ask, because it’s a little hard to believe.

“You’re not a random guy,” Derek says, amused. “And though I was fine with the idea after that first meeting with you, I was initially disqualified.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, because Derek totally seems like the perfect candidate.

“Because I was interested in you,” Derek says. “Romantically. The pack was afraid that my attraction, coupled with the bond, would feel like coercion to you. I assured them that it wouldn’t be.” He gives Stiles a reassuring smile. “That’s why I picked up the majority of the bond, to make sure you wouldn’t have to feel any of my emotions.”

“I—you were going to live with me for a year, and _not_ make a move?” Stiles says, bewildered. He’s not sure _he_ can last that long.

Derek laughs then, and Stiles drinks it in. “I had initially thought you might be interested in me, too. But when you came here, pretty much all I got from you were negative emotions. So I decided it was best if I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make things any more uncomfortable for you.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, because that just makes him like Derek even more. “Is there any way to change that aspect of the bond?”

“If we renew it, you can pick up more of the bond yourself, make it more equal.” He gives Stiles a long look. “I guess that means you’re not bothered by my attraction?”

That startles a laugh out of Stiles. “Bothered? No, not at all. The feeling is definitely mutual,” he says, grinning. “And I’m more than interested in dating you, but I must say, we kind of started this relationship backwards.”

He catches Derek’s confused look, raises his eyebrows.

“I mean, we’ve already moved in together, and we’ve never even _kissed_ ,” Stiles says, amused. “So I want to give this a chance, but I also want to take things slow.”

Derek gives him a full smile then, bright and sweet, and Stiles swears his heart skips a beat.

“A chance is all I wanted,” he says softly.

Stiles nods, clears his throat. “Guess our first date will have to wait until after that pack meeting tomorrow.”

“Maybe _right_ after,” Derek says, grinning. “They do live on the beach. You should definitely pack your swim suit.”

“I like the sound of that,” Stiles says with a smirk. He can only imagine how hot Derek will look, stripped down and gleaming in the sun. “Might not be a bad first date idea after all.”

 

*

 

(It’s the best date Stiles has ever had. He’s pretty sure he falls in love with Derek the moment he picks Stiles up, kisses him on the lips, and then tosses him into the surf. He doesn’t tell Derek that, though. He’ll find out eventually.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try writing something that focused on anxiety and the effect of catastrophizing, especially in a situation like Stiles’, where he’s afraid to ask questions in case they prove he’s fake, and how that keeps him from hearing and seeing the obvious. I hope that came across! (There is also some portrayal of Imposter Syndrome.)
> 
> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
